


Breezeblocks

by sleepkinu



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, DNF, Dream Needs A Hug, Dreams, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Hallucinations, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Light Smut, M/M, Pining, Sapnap thirdwheels, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, and prob george, but not very explicit, dreamnotfound, eventually, just mature, more tags will be added eventually, or not???, possible slow updates :(, yeah.. gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepkinu/pseuds/sleepkinu
Summary: It's the way Dream yearned so selfishly for George, but doesn't want to.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	Breezeblocks

**Author's Note:**

> Hihi!! This is mostly just sparked from me listening to Breezeblocks, good song I suggest defodefo :)

Marigolds.

He didn’t like them very much, despite being laid in a field of the flowers. Gentle petals brushed against his forearm as the breeze began to calm. Dream blinked, staring up towards the sky— the sun stared back, beaming rays of heat in return. 

Marigolds, where had he heard those before? It seemed so significant but he couldn’t put his finger on where he heard the name numerous times prior.  
Flowers, flower shop, florist-.

George. 

It was no mystery that George was a fanatic for flowers, he never stopped talking about them.— more specifically marigolds. The memory gave a reason for Dream to smile, a gentle crimson flushed across his face.

Cute.

A slow frown, accompanied by the feeling of guilt washes over him—There’s no longer the itch, urge, scratch of his mind that compels him to think of his best friend in such ways. It makes him feel horrible, because he convinced himself that this was normal, yet he yearned so selfishly for George’s attention.

Abrupt twinges of pain sparked in his throat, quickly, he sat up— eyes wide open. Dream lifts his hand, pulling it towards his chest. Slightly restricting himself, He spreads his fingers across the gentle fabric of his hoodie, an eruption in his chest catches his attention. His heart, beating intensely from what he could only assume, was from the adrenaline rush.

“Fuck,” He exhales, voice raspy.

His hands now travel towards the crook of his neck. His gentle graze brushes against his adam’s apple first, but soon it's firmly grasped around the perimeter of his neck. 

Pain erupts, a breath of shock leaves his lungs. His pulse exceeds slightly, he can’t breathe.

Loud hacks escape from his throat, he falls forward, now on his hands and knees.

A petal flows from his mouth, joining the group of other flowers beneath it. It was a marigold, sure, but the distinct difference is that it came from his throat.

A flower- came from his throat.

Dream’s eyes shot open and he quickly sat up in his bed, he felt himself panting. Beads of sweat had begun to collect on the edge of his hairline. He takes a deep breath, admiring the welcoming feeling of the stilled air.  
He looks around, taking in his surroundings. It’s somewhere in the early morning, the sun climbs up, sending rays of light through the blinds on his window. The day is saturday, his apartment boisterous with gentle laughs and bustling conversations, very different from his average weekday. 

Dream’s phone screen emits a gentle glow, notifications buzzing and flickering with rapid motion. He finds himself reaching forward, his fingers grazing the phone’s case, bringing it closer to his vision. 

With squinted eyes, he makes out his notifications to be from none other than George. He can't help but smile, letting a soft chuckle escape from his lips.

But soon, He frowns as he remembers his dream— nightmare from the night prior. Despite the bustling notifications that erupted chronically from his phone, Dream couldn’t help but sit in the lingering feeling of solitude.

Dream shakes his head, ruffling his hair and brings his hands onto his face. He rubs his eyes in an attempt to feel more attentive, but is only left with a buzzing feeling behind his eye, leaving his vision blurry.

He musters up the courage to reread those notifications.

George ^-^: Dream can you come help me open?

George ^-^: Dream?

George ^-^: Dont ignore me

George ^-^: Please?

Dream felt a rush of fiery nerves pace through his body. He shuffles his phone in his hands, frantically typing a reply.

Dream: You really want me that bad? 

It came off more, flirty than he intended to say the least. A soft chuckle at his own joke lightens his mood slightly, but is quickly turned to panic once again as he realizes the severity of his message. The dots appear on the screen, stop, and then continue. Dream becomes slightly more anxious at what George had to reply. 

George ^-^: I hate you.

Dream scoffs. 

Dream: You hate me?

George ^-^: Yeah.

Dream: You love me ;P

Read. 7:16 AM

Dream remembers the first time George had invited him to his shop, it was the hour after his first shift at the cafe. It was mundane conversation at first, but soon erupted into ebullient laughter. 

Dream remembers the first time they introduced themselves to each other.

“I’m George,” Dream nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Dream, I’m Dream.”

They met up at the flower shop quite frequently after that. The memory itself brings a faint smile to his lips. 

Dream scurries out of bed, lazily throwing on a hoodie and a pair of jeans. Before he leaves, he grabs his phone and earbuds. 

He rushes out the door, hurriedly stepping down the sleek stairs of his apartment. He puts in what earbud with one hand, using the other the shuffle his playlist.

Breezeblocks by Alt-J fills his ears.

Dream smiles, he likes this song.

-

George brushes off the leftover dirt from the pots, soil stuck to his palms. He picks at the collar of his blue sweatshirt, overalls tugging at his shoulders. George thinks wistfully, impatient taps of his shoes echo across the floor. 

There’s a lingering thought in George's mind that Dream is going to be late. He released a shaky sigh, one full of frustration. The brunette looks up, gazing across the shop and the flowers that riddle the store. He smiles softly to himself, taking in a reassuring breath. 

-

Dream approaches the shop's door, finally shielded from the sky as he stands under the awning. He sighs, with mindless repetition,he pushes the door open—earning a ring from the bell tied above the door.

“Busy day?” Dream asks, causing George to jump up in alert. George shifts unsteadily, rolling his eyes, he scoffs “As if.” 

Dream laughs into the still air, and turns to observe his surroundings. Bustling petals and blooming flowers with intricate colors catch his attention. The shop was a calming place, there was no doubt about it. 

From the outside, it stood tall and welcoming for all to admire, but on the inside there was much more to look forward to, there was George.

However, a patch of warm tinted flowers with overlapping petals somehow make his blood run cold.

Marigolds.

“You like them?” George gestures animatedly towards the flowers, his hands waving gently.

Dream blinks, memories from the night prior taunt their way into his mind.

“Dream?” 

The concern edged in George’s voice is enough to snap him back into his present tense.

“Oh, yeah,” Dream pauses, tentative with his words. “They’re cool.” 

This earns a smile from George, Dream takes note. The brunette steps towards Dream and the bundle of the flowers, tracing his finger on the petals. 

“Why Marigolds?” Dream asks, gently stepping away from the other. George tilts his head, his attention still focused on the fiery petals. He shrugs slightly, “I just think they’re neat.”

The smaller begins to ramble, stringing together descriptions and intriguing facts about the flower. Despite Dream feeling as if they’re more on the humdrum side, George makes it feel vivid and exciting. 

He gives George a small nod, Dream doesn’t get what he’s saying but smiles anyway. He glides his fingers, leaves brushing against his skin.

Dream smiles slightly, I think you’re neat. 

Suddenly, the itch, urge, scratch comes back.

Dream can feel the frown crawling up his lips. A soft cough tugs in his throat, he looks at George, who's still making boisterous conversation about his interest. 

The cough escapes from Dream’s throat, earning a pause from George. The brunette glances away, a slight crimson glistened on his cheeks. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I got, rather carried away.”

Dream is quick to reassure him that it’s fine, George releases a simple smile in return. 

There was something about George’s smile that was so interesting. Some parts could make even the most mundane situations bustle with excitement, others presented a wave of nostalgia.

Dream’s thoughts were soon interrupted by an awkward cough from George.

“It’s a little messy,” Dream commented honestly. He glanced towards George. “You need any help cleaning?” 

George scoffs, “As if you’d put in much effort, I know how lazy you are.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.”

“Wanna bet?”

George’s memorable coy smile shifts slightly into a menacing smirk. George thought Dream was too childish at first, but soon realized maybe it was he that was too boring. 

Competitive tension flourishes through the air. Although it’s a simple task like tidying up, the pair’s dynamic ends up with the shop bustling with laughter.

Dream liked George’s laughter. 

The fun came to a rather abrupt ending as Dream felt the memorable twinge of pain erupt in his throat. Dream holds his breath and tugs his arm towards his mouth, soon aggressively coughing into the sleeve’s fabric. George’s eyes slightly widen as he unsteadily turns towards the other. Gentle hands quickly bury into the fabric on Dream’s back, softly patting down near his shoulder blade.

Dream coughed harder.

“Dream are you,” George pauses, stepping back uneasily. “Are you okay? Seriously?”

Dream waved his free arm, attempting to signal that he was fine— despite the fact he was still hacking. He stumbles backwards until he can find the door, at first he collides with it but swiftly swivels around to force himself outside.

Dream steps onto the sidewalk, now slightly calmer as his distance from George increased. He glances up, the sky stretches for eons, stars still softly apparent. The stars aligned perfectly, the soft twinkles remind him of the spark in George’s eyes.

He coughed harder, once again.

Dream pushes his fingers into his mouth as an itch in his throat makes itself apparent. He pulled out a slick petal, slightly glistened and damp with saliva. Dream’s eyes go wide, for the first time— he wishes this was his nightmare. He turns unsteadily, yearning for the field of marigolds to just appear. His breath hitches, this is real life.

Oh god.

This is real life. 

He feels as if he can’t move, his hand grips the petal. 

What the fuck.

A soft graze on his shoulder causes him to perk up, he looms over. George stood uneasy, waiting impatiently for Dream to say something.

“Coughing fit,” Dream is quick to interrupt the silence.

It wasn’t funny, but George laughs nonetheless.

Dream chuckles uncomfortably with George, but soon fades into his natural persona. The two sit in comfortable silence, George is now  
leaning slightly on Dream. The blonde doesn’t mind, not at all.

“I like your laugh.” Dream notes. 

George rolls his eyes, scoffing at the comment. Dream takes attentive notice at how easy George became flustered at the comments Dream made. More specifically how George looked away, or how he rolled his eyes as his face turned a slight crimson. 

“You’re so odd.”.

The itch, urge, scratch came back, Dream only nodded.

“It's awful cold, I’m gonna go back in.” George adds.

“I’ll catch you in a few,” 

George nods, pats Dream’s shoulder and walks back into the comforting building. Dream taps his foot against the pavement to interrupt the silence that faded into the stilled air.

His knuckles were tired from gripping the petal in his hand. He looked down, his firm grip soon fading as he opened his palm. A singular, innocent petal stared up at him, Dream stared back— a shockwave of frustration filled his body.

So this is real, although feeling like some fairytale-esque story. An overwhelming sense of fear and confusion washes over him, it feels as if his dreams were real in the first place. He tried his best not to make it of any concern, not a problem, just a simple coughing fit. He tried his best to convince himself that that was all it was. That's all it could be, right?

Dream pursed his lips.

Today was the reason I finally had a valid reason to hate flowers.

More specifically,

Marigolds.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's super short!! It's always been a challenge for me to do an introductory chapter, I'll make future chapters min. 3k words, or at least I'll try!! I hope this is intriguing to some, I', hella nervous to post this woops.
> 
> Lmk what you guys think!!!


End file.
